


I am myself.

by Daisysmartheart



Category: Fire Emblem: Soen no Kiseki/Akatsuki no Megami | Fire Emblem Path of Radiance/Radiant Dawn
Genre: F/M, M/M, im very sorry, love me some good ole angst in the morning, soft for some birds™, why did I write this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-20
Updated: 2019-03-20
Packaged: 2019-11-26 06:50:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18177272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daisysmartheart/pseuds/Daisysmartheart
Summary: Lehran feared very little. Then one of the few thing he does fear happens.





	I am myself.

**Author's Note:**

> hey so yeah more un betad word vomit, this time inspired by the legend of the crane woman, though more specifically by the vocaloid song seasonal feathers. #givealtinalove2k19

She didn't know. Those words rung in his ears. She didn't know about his wings, or even that he was laguz. And that was the most important thing to him. The less she knew, the better. The less pain it would bring to their fledgling nation.

They had met on the battlefield, she, a storm of blades and he a lament carried to all ears. The time they shared would seem fleeting to him, but he would cherish it none the less.

Time passed, the war ended and she was hailed as a hero, all while he had fallen to the wayside despite being the one to seal Yune, as much as he wished not to. Even still, they loved each other, and that was all that mattered to them. Even living in near poverty would not stop them, poor they may now be, but in years to come they would rise above, and prosper along with their people.

Altina had been sick for years, but it was no sickness of the soul. Cursed by one of the mages who fought under Yune, she would grow weaker by the passing seasons, and it was one of the few things Lehran truly feared. His dear wife, the light to his own dark going out, the death of his love,the only one keeping him going despite the pain that Ashera had inflicted on him.

“Everything will be okay love.” Those were his words to her, but truly even he doubted them. Lehran knew what must be done. There was an old legend in the raven tribe of the laguz. A lone raven plucked her feathers, night after night, in hopes that her ailing husband would be able to afford medicinals to cure himself. That was his plan. Even if it killed him, even if the world was burning around them, he would keep removing his feathers, slowly weaving them into fabrics to sell.

It took nearly all of that first horrible summer to make even one yard of cloth, but slowly, oh so horrendously slow, he began to improve, and by the spring he had nearly seven yards, but barely any people to sell them to, beorc or laguz. With no other choice, he worked harder, faster, until only one downy feather remained.

If the legend was to be believed, pulling that last feather truly would kill him, and in a world without the Goddess he knew naught of what would happen to him. Altina had gotten even worse, barely being able to support her body to see the daughter they loved take her first steps, the clerics had said her surviving the birth was a miracle in and of itself. Lehran was conflicted, should he pull that feather and pray it will not kill him, or should he leave it, agonizing over whether it would have saved Altina.

Nearly three years later, when Altina had grown so weak she could not leave bed and their daughter bawling for a mother she couldn't see, Lehran had made his choice. Even if he would die, Altina was so weak that she would die within the year, and he was content with leaving with her. Dear little Lara had family friends and newly crowned nobles to raise her, he did not fear leaving her without a father. What a father he had been too, barely there in his worry, and when he was she was inconsolable.

“Don't worry, I will always love you.” Those were her words to him, the only ones he heard before fading away, not truly dark or truly feathers. Pulling that feather had killed him he supposed. Then he felt a pulling, warm yet unfamiliar, close to the warmth he felt in the sun, but not the same.

“Sir! Sir we need orders! Please!” Who was calling for him, and how? He was dead, or was this a freakish ploy by the Goddess to torment him further?

“Please, good Duke, what plans do you have for this battle?” There! Right in front of him, a soul so similar to his dear Altina, dark as night but in a welcoming way. Those eyes truly were fetching, and his hair the same raven-black. What shocked him most however was the blade on his belt. It looked so similar to the one his wife had, yet it couldn't be, even with the blessing of Ashera the thing and it's twin should've faded to little more than scrap years ago. Yet still, it was the same, and the answer was right in front of him. The man had grown impatient though, and so he supplied the first thing to come to mind.

“Don't worry, I'm sure I can think of something, I am myself, after all.”


End file.
